Claim It! Pt. 04

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JLRemora2
JLRemora2
556 Followers

Looking at his friends face, Pete asked, "You know what was so terrible about that?"

After a moment, Hughes shook his no.

"By that time, with all the chemo and radiation Stephie was getting, she was too weak and ill to travel. So our time together wasn't the fun and games it should have been. It was supposed to be traveling, seeing new sights, sharing special moments together. Instead, it was her getting sicker and all I could do was hold her hand. In the end, right before she died, she thanked me for being there with her. She thanked me!" Pete said in amazed wonder.

Hughes had seen Santos express all sorts of things, and had even seen him grimace in pain, once, when he was seriously wounded, but his current expression was nothing he'd ever seen on the former Sergeant Major.

It was soul damning grief.

Santos' pain filled eyes brought burning embarrassment to Hughes.

"She should have cursed the day I was born, Gerald. She should have condemned my soul to eternal damnation for marrying her. She had every fucking right. Instead, she thanked me as she died!"

"That's fucked up, Top, and I'm sorry, man. Stephie was one of a kind. You were and are one lucky bastard to have known her and married her. You're right though, she should have cut your heart out, shot you in the balls and kicked your head in. As we've always known, she was too good for you. She should have married me." Hughes said lightly.

Pete's face grew red with suppressed anger, and then suddenly, he burst out laughing. "Fuck you! If she was too good for me, then she was definitely too good for you!"

"I know she was, Top." Hughes agreed, albeit, sadly. "But, kicking yourself in the balls isn't going to change what coulda, woulda, shoulda been. Get over it and move forward."

Pete smiled at Hughes. "I have been. Stephie and I discussed it several times, and what I'm doing is something we both agreed on. I can't shed the guilt, but I have been doing something with my life. Building something from nothing, has been good for me, and to me. I can't change the past shit, but I can better the future shit, due in part, of my past shit. "

"Seriously? You're going Plato on me?"

"Gerald- I'm happy where I am. With what I'm doing. So, no, I ain't going back to that point in my life where I missed so much life."

Hughes gazed at his friend in bewilderment, it was like Santos had grown a second head and the new head was asking what's to eat.

"Okay, man. If that's what puts juice in your tube, all I can say is- I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Gerald. Now, about Don..."

~N~

The man drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting impatiently for his throw away phone to ring. The new team he'd hired was proving less cooperative than the first team. Yet, it was a price he paid for employing those less scrupulous. They cared little for the law and it came as no real surprise that they had even less concern with their employer. It was frustrating to say the least. He should have already received an update and a confirmation on the death of Donald Hudson. If only the first team hadn't lost perspective, and their stomach for what needed to be done.

The vibration in his coat pocket was an irritant which interrupted his thoughts, but it was also a welcome relief.

The non-altered human voice rasped, "He's not dead. We've discovered evidence indicating he's wounded, but somehow managed to escape. The two men sent to terminate him are missing. They haven't contacted us, so its presumed they're dead." After a moment's pause, the rasp continued. "Whatever the fuck you got us into it's going to cost you! A lot more!" As per instructions, the raspy voice hung up, knowing there wouldn't be a reply.

The news came as a rude shock to the man. Don Hudson not dead? How could that be? How could Hudson have killed two professional assassins?

What if Hudson had caught on? What if he knew who was behind everything? It could turn even more dangerous and undoubtedly, messier. It could also mean the end of his long held dreams. The man's hand trembled as he returned the phone to his coat pocket. He began to worry. And, to fear.

~N~

"My dear, it's but for a fortnight, we shall return with plenty of time to spare." Mark McCullah said in a melodramatica manner. "Donna, honestly, it's just a short trip. We'll be back in time for the reading of the final disposition. And then- Well, we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams! Imagine buying things, going places, doing things we could only dream of before. Isn't that worth everything we've worked toward these past several weeks?"

"Of course! Of course, it is. But, don't you think we should stay close by just in case something happens? I don't want to lose what we've worked for because we weren't here to monitor the situation." said Donna pleadingly. "Please, Mark, lets stay here. Once it's over we can go wherever you want. Together! As we've always wanted to."

McCullah mulled his lover's words for several seconds, as she looked on with hopeful expectation.

"You do have a point. And, under different circumstances, I'd immediately agree with your concern, however, we have a problem that if we stay could put an end to our plans. Because of the possibility that something could crop up, while we're away, your concern has strong merit. Yet, by staying, we could have a larger problem. It's a difficult decision, but I still think we should leave."

Donna looked on with mild surprise at her lover, confused by the mention of a problem already.

"What sort of problem is it, Mark, that forces us to leave?" asked Donna uncertainly.

Sighing deeply, McCullah looked away from Donna and toward the living room window, "It's your husband. He's missing and presumed dead. Although there is a rumor that he isn't dead, that he faked his death. If that's the case, he could be looking for you. If he finds you, he could cause a major problem. It would draw attention, and then things would be exposed."

"He's dead?" asked Donna in a voice filled with surprise and disbelief. "What happened? How did he die"

"I don't know he's dead. No one does. Not for sure. There's evidence he's alive. And if he is, then most likely he'll come looking for you. I don't know if he can find you, since he doesn't know I exist, but he might. And, if he does, well..." McCullah trailed off, leaving Donna's imagination to fill in the blank.

"Oh, my God! How did he die? I mean- If he's dead, how did he die?" asked Donna, the beginning of shock husking her voice.

"Dammit, Donna. He might not be dead!" Mark said loudly in exasperation.

Seeing that Donna was a confused by the news, he quickly explained.

"I heard he pissed off some people, maybe he fucked them over on some job, and they went after him. His business partner, some Mexican guy, called the police when your husband didn't show up for work. They found blood in his office trailer. It's Hudson's blood. But, somehow, the police figured out he might not be dead."

Donna, stood and walked toward the fireplace in the living room of Mark's townhouse.

"He cheated on me, but I don't want anything bad to happen to him. I still love him, as stupid as that sounds. After you had shown me the evidence, I confronted him. At first, he played dumb. Then he denied he'd had sex with Michelle." Donna turned to look at Mark. "Oh, Mark! He did everything you said he'd do. Except, he became really angry. I'd never seen him so furious. I had this thought he would do something to me. Hurt me. I don't know what was going on with him, but the entire thing, It just didn't feel right."

Pausing, Donna looked at Mark questioningly.

"Why would he be so angry at me? Why didn't he admit to his cheating? You said he would cave and admit it. Why didn't he do that? Why, Mark?"

Mark McCullah became anxious at the doubt represented by Donna's questions. He had to act quickly but without making too much of it, he had to move her away from the doubt. He had to play it very carefully.

Hesitatingly, as if unwilling to cause Donna more emotional pain in dredging up an uncomfortable subject, he said, "Sometimes, when people are caught red-handed, they get defensive. We all do it, at one time or another. I know I've done it, even knowing it was a lost cause. That's human nature, and wrong or right, once we get our backs against the wall, we strike out. I think that's the case here. I think, Don, he didn't want to admit what he'd done. Perhaps he was afraid of losing you if he did. Or maybe, he just doesn't like to be wrong. I don't know." Pausing, as if in thought, McCullah began to pace. "Or, maybe his anger was more at himself, for doing what he did and then being discovered. Of course, his anger is misplaced, but as I said, we are human and it is our nature."

"Do you really think so, Mark? I mean, you didn't see him. He was enraged. I even threw his favorite saying at him, 'Claim it'. I thought he would. It just made him even angrier."

At Donna's words, a uncomfortable silence fell between the two people.

"It sounds like it was a bad idea calling him out using his own words against him. I'm sure it did infuriate him. But, cheaters sometimes go on the attack, using anger to first squash and then win the argument. They cause doubt in that way. Just like the doubt you are feeling now. Am I right?"

Donna looked at Mark, but all she saw was a concerned and pitying expression. It made her choke up that he cared so much. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Well, there you have it! If he can cause you to doubt the evidence, he can then take control and manipulate you. More than likely, if he had convinced you that he wasn't cheating, he would have cooled it with your friend Michelle, but only until he was sure you no longer had any suspicions. Then he would have, pardon the expression, begun fucking her again." said McCullah in a strong confident tone of voice.

As he spoke, McCullah saw the anger flare up in Donna's eyes. Good, he had her!

Choosing his words carefully, he said, "And didn't you say, your friend, Michelle-"

Donna interrupted him, hissing venomously, "She's not my friend! Not anymore!"

"Okay, sorry about that. But, you did say Michelle didn't deny it and she even tried to play like she was too busy to talk. Right?" said Mark with the smoothness of a snake slithering over glass.

"Yes! The fucking bitch!" responded Donna with renewed hate.

Knowing she was back on board, McCullah breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"There you have it. If what evidence I've shown you isn't enough then the very attitudes of Don and your friend-" He saw her eyes flash in rising anger and quickly changed his wording. "I mean- Michelle. Their less than forthright attitudes, should convince you they've been having sex. "Taking a breath and seeming to speak against his will, McCullah added, "I hate to say it, but since you're no longer in the picture, so to speak, they are probably continuing their fuck sessions."

"Motherfuckers! Fuck Don! The sorry asshole deserves whatever anyone does to him! I can't believe I felt sorry for him!"

Breathing heavily, her breasts heaving with pent up anger, Donna looked at Mark McCullah and said, "Okay, lets get the fuck out of this town. I don't want to talk to that motherfucker! Or to the skank I thought was my friend. And when we return, I'm putting an end to the marriage! That motherfucker! He's going to pay!"

A malicious smile played across McCullah's face as he turned away from Donna. 'Oh, how perfect the world', he thought.

~N~

The hard jolt woke her. She'd been asleep, dreaming of- She wasn't sure what she'd been dreaming, but whatever the dream it had brought her a warm blanket of comfort. Then she opened her eyes and the feeling quickly evaporated.

Don had gone off the road, the jolt had been caused by a dip in the uneven terrain they now drove over, albeit slowly.

"Where are-" began Rhodes as she tried to stifle a yawn, with no success. "...We?"

Don simply cast an amused glance at her disheveled hair and wide yawn.

"Okay. Why are we off road?" Rhodes tried a different tact.

"You'll know soon enough. By the way, sorry for the rough ride, but cutting a trail in rough terrain isn't easy."

They rode along in a bumpy silence, punctuated by an occasional involuntary moan of discomfort from Rhodes as the truck swayed violently over some particularly uneven ground. Soon, Don slowed the truck until they came to an old cabin. It looked abandoned, but then again, thought Rhodes, 'Looks can be deceiving' as she gave Don a questioning appraisal.

After he had stopped the truck, Don grabbed a large duffel bag off the seat and exited the truck. He didn't once glance at Rhodes, as he quickly walked toward the cabin.

Wanda was out of the truck in a flash, quickly moving to place herself in front of Don, before he entered the cabin.

"What are you doing?" asked Don as he frowned at Rhodes.

"Trying to get some answers. Why are we here? And, what is this place? It looks like no one has been living here since before the turn of the twentieth century."

Sighing, Don moved past Rhodes, or attempted to, since Wanda hastily blocked his path.

"Dammit, Rhodes. Get out of the way!" Don said menacingly.

"Not until you tell me what's going on. Why are we here?"

"To sleep!" said Don.

"Huh? What do you mean? Why not go to a motel? Why here?" asked a confused and suddenly wary Wanda.

"This was my grandfather's place. Although it's primitive, it's secluded enough so we can sleep without worrying about anyone bothering us. Satisfied?." said Hudson sarcastically.

Ignoring his last remark, Wanda asked, "Who else knows about this place?"

Shrugging, Don replied, "I might have told Pete about it. I never got around to telling Donna about it."

Eying him critically for a moment, Rhodes turned to look at the cabin. It really did look abandoned and somewhat decrepit. Without a word she stepped forward, pushing the door open. The door hinges were dry and rusted, and resisted for a second before giving way in a loud screech of disapproval, as Rhodes pushed more forcefully.

"Hey! What are you doing?" asked Don, surprised at Wanda's unexpected action. "Be careful. No one's been here in some time, years probably, and there's no telling what condition the structure is in."

"I hear you, Hudson. I'm not a fool. So, you enter first."

Grunting his disapproval at Rhodes' flippancy, Don pulled a flashlight out of the bag he carried.

"Stay here. I'll call to you after I check things out." said Don as he gingerly stepped into the cabin.

"Whatever." replied Wanda to his back.

The single room cabin wasn't as bad as Don had first thought. The wooden beams and studs seemed solid enough, as did the plank flooring. The interior of the cabin was sparsely furnished, with a home-made table and 2 wooden chairs. There was a large clothing chest at the foot of the twin bed. The bed had no mattress, although a old bare metal semi-rusted box spring leaned against one wall. Casting his gaze around he saw a clear plastic wrapped bundle of at least two sleeping bags. There was also a kerosene lamp hanging from a wall peg. There was a small stack of kindling and a few short pieces of split logs laying next to the fireplace.

Satisfied with his initial appraisal of the cabin's structural condition, he called for Rhodes to enter.

"You can have the bed, and I'll sleep on the floor. Sorry, but we can't have a fire, since the smoke would be seen for miles." explained Don to Rhodes as she strode in.

After a quick glance of the place, Wanda said, "Nah, I'm sleeping on the floor. I don't need a fire. I've slept under worse conditions. I'll be fine."

Shrugging, Don said, "Suit yourself."

Using the sleeping gear Don had purchased, they quickly settled in. Using a red lensed flashlight, Don sorted through the duffel bag.

"Here, it's not gourmet, but it's got plenty of calories." said Don, as he handed Wanda a small MRE package.

"Yuck! Vomit omelette! What do you have?" asked Rhodes in disgust.

"Mmm- Chili Mac. Want to trade?"

"Fuck yeah! Chili Mac is my fav!" exclaimed Rhodes in pleasant surprise.

Dom chuckled softly at Rhodes' child like excitement, as he traded his MRE for hers.

Opening her MRE, Wanda quickly dug in. "What's so funny? And how can you stomach that slimy yellow crap? It's really foul." asked Wanda as she spooned out a large portion of chili.

"I don't mind the taste. I don't think about what I'm eating while on mission. I eat to keep my strength up." explained Don as he ate. "Plus, I have a cast iron stomach." he added between bites.

Nodding, Wanda said, "I knew guys like you back when. So focused on their task, they didn't care what they ate or even if they ate. At least, not until they accomplished their mission."

Don continued to eat, listening to Wanda's words, while thinking about other things.

After a few moments of mutual silence, Rhodes said, "Don...?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your mission? Why are we here? What did you mean by 'to get answers'?"

The silence grew into a uncomfortable pause, and Rhodes was about to ask her questions again, when Hudson spoke.

"I want to know who lied to my wife and why."

Staring at Don for a moment, Wanda replied, "I think you already know the why of it."

"You think it's for the inheritance? That Donna is so mercenary she would fake a marriage for the sole purpose of inheriting money?" said Don disbelievingly.

"Stranger things have happened. And, spouses have been known to kill each other off for a lot less than five million dollars." said Wanda in a quiet voice.

"I know! But, Donna? Shes' acted like the loving wife for five years! How can anyone do that and not mean it?" asked Don just as quietly.

Shrugging, Rhodes said, "I don't know."

Turning his head to her, Hudson asked, "Could you do something like that? Pretend to marry and love someone for money? Would you?"

Wanda was caught by surprise at the unexpected questions. Could she do something like that? Probably. Would she do it? Probably not. No, on second thought, she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't masquerade as a loving wife no matter how much money was involved.

"No, I couldn't."

After a few seconds, Don lay down, saying, "Okay. Goodnight, Rhodes."

Troubled by Hudson's reaction, Wanda asked, "Are you still going to-"

Another, but sterner, 'good night' interrupted Wanda's question, but she got the hint, and lay down, as well.

~N~

They'd been driving since before the morning sun. It had been a cold night in the cabin with no heat. Neither had slept well, although they'd both slept through the night. Don drove as Rhodes tried to catch a few winks in the warm cab of the truck.

"Do you want me to drop you off some where? Because, the next stop is McCullah's place."

Wanda opened her eyes, turning to look at Hudson. "You have his location?"

Don nodded.

"How did you get his address?"

"Does it matter? I also know that he's preparing to leave town. He'll either be gone by tonight or first thing tomorrow. So what do you want to do?"

Rhodes looked at Hudson. She looked at him as if for the first time. "You're full of surprises, Mister Hudson. But, do tell, how did you come by your information?"

"I doesn't matter. Now, what do you want to do? Drop off, or finish the ride?"

Wanda ignored his questions, asking one in return. "Don... Don, what are you planning to do? I mean, to McCullah?"

"Get some answers." he said coldly.

Rhodes looked away, lost in her thoughts, when Don intruded, "Don't worry. I'm not going to kill the guy. I'm just going to ask him some questions. If he answers truthfully, then nothing happens. If he tries to play me- Well, someone might get hurt." explained Hudson grimly.

Rhodes looked at Don, studying his face, his posture, his body, trying to read him, to see if he was being truthful. Nothing came to her, but she knew Don, rather, she'd read and knew his military psychological evaluation. "Okay. I'm in. Now, what's the plan?" asked Rhodes with barely concealed relish.

JLRemora2
JLRemora2
556 Followers